As soon as I opened the front door of my house, I was met with a thick, damp smell, something like a muddy puddle full of baked beans. Mom must be distilling oils. I followed the smell to the guest bathroom. The tub was full of thick, murky liquid with boogery lumps undulating on the surface.
Mom was leaning over the tub, slowly stirring the mixture with a large plastic spoon. She glanced over her shoulder at me, then turned back to her concoction. “Hi, Hadley. How was school today?”
“Normal, I guess. I still haven’t chosen a date for prom.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.” She scooped up a slimy lump with the spoon and, after carefully examining it, let it drop back into the bathtub.
“What are you distilling this time?” I asked. My mother had cornered the market with unusual oils. Some people said it was all crazy, but she said everything in the natural world was useful to humans if stripped of its toxins and distilled to its essence.
“Crumbled granite and dog phlegm,” she said. “It took me forever to collect enough dog phlegm, but it will be worth it. The combo has amazing properties.”
So the floating boogers were actually boogers. “What kind of properties? Can they repel pompous jerks?”
“Possibly. The capabilities of essential oils are limited only by the bottomless reservoir of the human of the human spirit, for we are all like little birds tied to a kite string and flying down a drainpipe to catch a falling satellite” she said dreamily. “But I do think that granite and dog-phlegm oil will be best for increasing inner fortitude and purifying your sinuses.”
My mother was very careful about the new oils she developed. She used the SCIENTIFIC method (pronounced Sky-an-tiff-ick), or the See Carefully with Inner Eye Nirvana To Inwardly Find Ideal Cures. She would sit in a corner and meditate about a substance she wanted to distil into oil, trying to reach the nirvana of her inner eye, and when she reached that nirvana, she would suddenly know what the oil might be able to help or cure in the human (or sometimes animal) body.
“Maybe I’ll try some later. I could use more inner fortitude. By the way, I’ll be heading out soon to do some shopping downtown. I need to look at prom decorations.” Just because they had voted on Paris today, didn’t mean I was going to give up on my idea that easily. I’d find some good ideas to show them at the next meeting.
“Okay, but could you take Essence with you? She needs some supplies for an art project at school.”
I wrinkled my nose, then sighed. “Yeah, okay.” Essence was my little sister. She was in middle school, and mother always says she is the essence of life itself, but she was more like the essence of annoying sister. She was always stealing my lipstick to draw pentagrams on the ceiling, or filling my coat pockets with scrambled crows eggs. Whenever I complain to mom, she just shrugs and says, “The Essence of life is to be chaotic and unpredictable. Don’t get too hung up on the Essence.” She was way too metaphoricle sometimes.
I went up to my room and switched my wallet from my backpack to my purse. Then I went across the hall and banged on Essence’s door. “Essence, mom says you need to buy stuff. I’ll drive you to the store.”
The door opened a few inches. I could see Essence’s large, red eyes peering out at me. Neither of my parents have red eyes, but mother thinks her great grandmother, Branwen Iamarealwitch did. Essence blinked a few times, probably letting her eyes adjust to the light because her room was pitch black (as always). She nodded and then slammed the door shut. There were a series of loud bangs and thumps coming from the room and then she stepped out into the hall, wearing her black dress and carrying a black parasol. I shook my head. Middle-schoolers sure had some weird fashion trends.
“Let us depart,” she said, and she started gliding down the hallway. I followed her out to the car. She was settling into the passenger seat. I climbed into the driver’s seat and started driving towards the craft store.
We arrived at the store a few minutes later. I parked the car. It was a rainy day and the parking lot smelled like my mother’s asphalt and steel essential oils mix. That was a mixture to help muscles relax and slow down, which might be why I was so slow to react to what happened next. The store doors banged open, and suddenly there was a large man with a ski mask sprinting out of the store with a bag full of picture frames slung over his shoulder. He rammed into me and sent me flying. I landed hard and I think I must have blacked out for a minute because the next thing I saw was a man in a butler uniform with such a large mustache that I could only see his sunglasses and the tip of his nose.
He bowed and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Are you all right, miss? It seems you’ve had a bit of a tumble.”
I stared into his beautiful sunglasses, which I was sure hid some beautiful manly eyes behind them. “Yes, I’m all right. Thank you.”
He nodded, then gently pulled his hand away. I quickly hid my hand behind my back. I was sure I was blushing. It was hard to tell with the mustache and suit, but the guy looked like he might be about my age. I watched the handsome, heroic teenage butler as he turned and started sprinting after the man with the picture frames. The thief was almost to the other side of the parking lot, but the handsome butler was fast and caught up before the thief could get away. The butler, his gigantic mustache flapping in the wind, grabbed the thief in a bear hug. The thief struggled, but the butler would not let go.
I started walking towards him, thinking I could maybe help somehow, when I heard sirens. The police had come. I watched an officer climb out of his car and approach the butler and the thief. The thief fell on the ground, sobbing. I was close enough to hear him choke out, “My wife, she wanted to hang so many pictures! But frames are so expensive, and I said why can’t we just hang the pictures, and she said if I had a better job we could afford to hang 30 pictures of her cats, and I don’t know what came over me, I just couldn’t bring myself to spend that much money on picture frames!”
The policeman took out his handcuffs and secured the thief’s hands behind his back. As he walked the thief to his squad car, he shook his head sadly at his fellow police officer. “This is the third picture frame robbery this month. These poor fools just can’t help themselves, I figure.”
The other officer nodded in agreement. “It’s a sad day when a man can’t just hang a picture without shelling out a fortune for a picture frame. That’s the death of the American dream right there.” He paused and looked around. “Say, where’d that butler fellow go?”
My head whipped around to where the mustached butler had been standing, but like the well-trained, discreet manservant that he was, he had slipped away without a trace. My heart sank. My handsome, heroic teenage butler was gone, and I would probably never see him again.
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Mom was leaning over the tub, slowly stirring the mixture with a large plastic spoon. She glanced over her shoulder at me, then turned back to her concoction. “Hi, Hadley. How was school today?”
“Normal, I guess. I still haven’t chosen a date for prom.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.” She scooped up a slimy lump with the spoon and, after carefully examining it, let it drop back into the bathtub.
“What are you distilling this time?” I asked. My mother had cornered the market with unusual oils. Some people said it was all crazy, but she said everything in the natural world was useful to humans if stripped of its toxins and distilled to its essence.
“Crumbled granite and dog phlegm,” she said. “It took me forever to collect enough dog phlegm, but it will be worth it. The combo has amazing properties.”
So the floating boogers were actually boogers. “What kind of properties? Can they repel pompous jerks?”
“Possibly. The capabilities of essential oils are limited only by the bottomless reservoir of the human of the human spirit, for we are all like little birds tied to a kite string and flying down a drainpipe to catch a falling satellite” she said dreamily. “But I do think that granite and dog-phlegm oil will be best for increasing inner fortitude and purifying your sinuses.”
My mother was very careful about the new oils she developed. She used the SCIENTIFIC method (pronounced Sky-an-tiff-ick), or the See Carefully with Inner Eye Nirvana To Inwardly Find Ideal Cures. She would sit in a corner and meditate about a substance she wanted to distil into oil, trying to reach the nirvana of her inner eye, and when she reached that nirvana, she would suddenly know what the oil might be able to help or cure in the human (or sometimes animal) body.
“Maybe I’ll try some later. I could use more inner fortitude. By the way, I’ll be heading out soon to do some shopping downtown. I need to look at prom decorations.” Just because they had voted on Paris today, didn’t mean I was going to give up on my idea that easily. I’d find some good ideas to show them at the next meeting.
“Okay, but could you take Essence with you? She needs some supplies for an art project at school.”
I wrinkled my nose, then sighed. “Yeah, okay.” Essence was my little sister. She was in middle school, and mother always says she is the essence of life itself, but she was more like the essence of annoying sister. She was always stealing my lipstick to draw pentagrams on the ceiling, or filling my coat pockets with scrambled crows eggs. Whenever I complain to mom, she just shrugs and says, “The Essence of life is to be chaotic and unpredictable. Don’t get too hung up on the Essence.” She was way too metaphoricle sometimes.
I went up to my room and switched my wallet from my backpack to my purse. Then I went across the hall and banged on Essence’s door. “Essence, mom says you need to buy stuff. I’ll drive you to the store.”
The door opened a few inches. I could see Essence’s large, red eyes peering out at me. Neither of my parents have red eyes, but mother thinks her great grandmother, Branwen Iamarealwitch did. Essence blinked a few times, probably letting her eyes adjust to the light because her room was pitch black (as always). She nodded and then slammed the door shut. There were a series of loud bangs and thumps coming from the room and then she stepped out into the hall, wearing her black dress and carrying a black parasol. I shook my head. Middle-schoolers sure had some weird fashion trends.
“Let us depart,” she said, and she started gliding down the hallway. I followed her out to the car. She was settling into the passenger seat. I climbed into the driver’s seat and started driving towards the craft store.
We arrived at the store a few minutes later. I parked the car. It was a rainy day and the parking lot smelled like my mother’s asphalt and steel essential oils mix. That was a mixture to help muscles relax and slow down, which might be why I was so slow to react to what happened next. The store doors banged open, and suddenly there was a large man with a ski mask sprinting out of the store with a bag full of picture frames slung over his shoulder. He rammed into me and sent me flying. I landed hard and I think I must have blacked out for a minute because the next thing I saw was a man in a butler uniform with such a large mustache that I could only see his sunglasses and the tip of his nose.
He bowed and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Are you all right, miss? It seems you’ve had a bit of a tumble.”
I stared into his beautiful sunglasses, which I was sure hid some beautiful manly eyes behind them. “Yes, I’m all right. Thank you.”
He nodded, then gently pulled his hand away. I quickly hid my hand behind my back. I was sure I was blushing. It was hard to tell with the mustache and suit, but the guy looked like he might be about my age. I watched the handsome, heroic teenage butler as he turned and started sprinting after the man with the picture frames. The thief was almost to the other side of the parking lot, but the handsome butler was fast and caught up before the thief could get away. The butler, his gigantic mustache flapping in the wind, grabbed the thief in a bear hug. The thief struggled, but the butler would not let go.
I started walking towards him, thinking I could maybe help somehow, when I heard sirens. The police had come. I watched an officer climb out of his car and approach the butler and the thief. The thief fell on the ground, sobbing. I was close enough to hear him choke out, “My wife, she wanted to hang so many pictures! But frames are so expensive, and I said why can’t we just hang the pictures, and she said if I had a better job we could afford to hang 30 pictures of her cats, and I don’t know what came over me, I just couldn’t bring myself to spend that much money on picture frames!”
The policeman took out his handcuffs and secured the thief’s hands behind his back. As he walked the thief to his squad car, he shook his head sadly at his fellow police officer. “This is the third picture frame robbery this month. These poor fools just can’t help themselves, I figure.”
The other officer nodded in agreement. “It’s a sad day when a man can’t just hang a picture without shelling out a fortune for a picture frame. That’s the death of the American dream right there.” He paused and looked around. “Say, where’d that butler fellow go?”
My head whipped around to where the mustached butler had been standing, but like the well-trained, discreet manservant that he was, he had slipped away without a trace. My heart sank. My handsome, heroic teenage butler was gone, and I would probably never see him again.
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Jump to: Table of Contents
